


Red Hot Number

by abstractconcept



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Capsicoul - Freeform, Car Sex, Frottage, M/M, Sexual Content, blow-jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil hates it when anyone touches Lola. But with Steve, there’s a completely different reason for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Hot Number

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Isisanubis, and all remaining mistakes are my own.  
> A/N: Spoilers for Avengers, previews of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Iron Man 3, use of Marvel villain Red Shift, just to give the guys something to do.

“Are you sure you want this one? It’s a mid-life crisis on wheels.” Natasha frowned at the car. 

“It is _not_ a mid-life crisis,” Coulson replied, irritated. He slid a finger along the cherry-red frame. He’d told Fury that he’d always wanted a ’62 Corvette, but in truth he was also just relieved that it wasn’t another damn Audi. 

“Nah, it’s not a mid-life crisis. It’s just a post-death crisis,” Clint joked. 

Coulson didn’t answer. This was what he wanted. “I’ll take it,” he said to the salesman, who looked briefly at the sky like someone had answered his prayer. 

The man mopped his big, red face. It was hot as hell in Scottsdale, but it was a great place if you were looking for a classic car. “You won’t regret it, sir, you won’t regret it. You just come along in and I’ll get her papers and then Lola will be all yours.” 

“Lola?” Coulson arched a brow. He held out a hand and the man gave him the keys. 

The salesman’s face grew, if possible, even redder. “Well, you see, sir, it’s my theory that every car has a personality, sir, every last car. And if you know how to tap into that . . .” he trailed off, embarrassed, as Clint sniggered. “If you know what makes ‘em tick, sir, you’ll be able to do just about anything with ’em, from Big Jim—” he jerked a thumb at the tow truck parked across the lot, “right down to little Lola.”

“Ah.” Phil nodded. He dragged a tongue across his teeth. The name fit well enough. “Lola,” he murmured. 

“Can I drive back to base?” Clint asked. 

“Like hell,” Phil replied blandly. This was his reward, his ‘cookie,’ as Fury told him, for ‘rolling over and playing dead.’ Of course, after Manhattan, some people had eventually been let in on the secret, primarily those with clearance and those he had to work with soon, like Natasha and Clint, but the rest of the team would just have to live in the dark. 

“Shotgun,” Natasha said, grinning at Clint. 

Phil looked from Lola to Natasha, then over at Clint. “Nope. You got your own ride.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “This one’s mine, and no one touches her.”

Clint leaned down. “What about the paperwork?”

Phil put his shades on and looked away. Hotter than hell out there, but the sky was blue, blue, blue. The blue of freedom. The blue of infinity. The blue of heaven’s eye. He turned back to Clint with a smile. “You deal with the paperwork for once,” he said, and turned the engine over. 

Lola. Yeah. That worked just fine.

oOoOoOo

“Thanks for being understanding,” Phil told Banner. He was, in a way, glad to be coming out of the closet, so to speak. There was a new national threat on the horizon and, in anticipation, today he was finally revealing to the rest of the Avengers that he hadn’t died. Bruce was blessedly mild-mannered when he wasn’t actively enraged and destroying large chunks of the city; he’d handled the news well. Phil was grateful. He had an inkling the others wouldn’t be so easy. “Let me walk you out,” Phil offered.

Banner shrugged. “Sure. I’m parked in the garage.”

Phil raised his eyebrows. Bruce had a car? He’d been under the impression that Bruce, of all the Avengers, was still in the wind, reluctant to stay in any one city for long. 

“Well, you know. Technically, it’s Tony’s. He just lets me drive it,” Banner explained. They headed for the elevator. 

Tony, Phil suspected, was going to be the difficult one. Whatever you said about Loki being a drama queen, Tony could give him a run for his money if he was in the right mood. And discovering Nick Fury had lied again and Phil Coulson was not dead was almost sure to bring out Tony Stark’s particular brand of histrionics.

Phil sighed as the elevator slid down into the earth. Lola was parked right by the elevator—getting stabbed through the back by an insane demi-god in the line of duty had at least yielded decent parking privileges—but when the elevator opened, it wasn’t just Lola waiting for him. Stark and Rogers were there as well, walking up to the elevator door, shoulder to shoulder, and they both looked at Phil with shock. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. Captain.” Phil kept his cool and nodded to them.

Dr. Banner, on the other hand, immediately began fiddling with his shirt cuffs, not meeting Tony’s eyes. “Hey, Tony,” he muttered at his feet.

A number of increasingly dramatic expressions crossed Tony’s face. Phil knew he was really in for it. He’d tried to stagger them so Tony wouldn’t be able to make as much of a scene, but superheroes tend to be busy men, so in the end he’d have to face them all together. Maybe it was better this way. Rip the band-aid off all at once. 

“You—you’re supposed to be dead. You know, I’d expect this from Fury but I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”

Ouch. “Tony, if I could explain—”

“Who else knew? I assume your little S.H.I.E.L.D. pals. What about Rhodey? Did Rhodey know?” Tony was sticking his finger right in Phil’s face.

Phil Coulson would not have admitted under torture that James Rhodes had been briefed a good month ago. “Of course Rhodes didn’t know.”

“Good to know some people still feel a little loyalty to me.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest. Steve and Bruce exchanged a look.

“I should, um, I should probably go,” Bruce mumbled.

“Et tu, _Bruce-te?_ ”

“What?” Bruce’s glasses slipped down his nose—he was sweating a little—and he pushed them back up.

“How long have you known?” Tony snapped.

“I—what—five minutes! Five minutes, tops!”

“You couldn’t have used one of those minutes to, I don’t know, send me a text? Give me a ring? You’re one of three people in the entire world who has my direct line, anytime, secure channel—”

“I would have called you—Tony, I would have called you!” Bruce held up his hands. “If I’d had six minutes, one of those would have been to tell you, I swear.”

“Yeah.” Tony sniffed. He physically turned his back on the conversation. “Right.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Phil tried not to smile. Steve looked good. Steve looked _so_ good. Even dressed down in khaki slacks and a soft flannel shirt, his hair mussed from the drive over on his bike, he looked super. Phil couldn’t believe it had been a year since he’d seen the man in person. 

“Tony. Look, I gotta go.” Poor Banner looked like he wished he’d left ten minutes ago. “I really don’t want to do this right now, Tony.”

“Good. Fine. Go.”

Bruce put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and turned him until they were facing. “Tony. Come on.”

“What?”

Eventually, Banner heaved a huge sigh. “I’ll see you later for drinks and endure a two-hour and fifteen minute monologue about how this has affected you, okay?”

Phil had no idea what this was about, but it seemed to placate Stark just a little. The man gave a small shrug.

“Okay?” Banner said. “Okay, buddy?”

Finally Tony relented. “Okay.”

Banner patted Tony on the shoulder, then scuttled off into the dark depths of the garage like a mouse looking for a hole in the wall. 

“So . . .” Steve said. “I assume this was the reason Tony and I were called to headquarters—to tell us that you’re alive and well?”

“Something like that,” Phil replied. He looked past the men to Lola. It was somehow calming to have her there, knowing that all he had to do was slide into the driver’s seat and with the gentlest pressure of his foot he’d be racing away from all this insanity.

“And you lied to us?” Tony was using the big, brown puppy-dog eyes, which never worked on anyone (apart from, perhaps, Banner), and certainly weren’t going to work on Phil Coulson. 

“I didn’t lie about anything. I just . . . kept my head down for awhile.” Phil gave Tony a pleasant smile and walked over to Lola, leaning back against her. Always good to have a friend at your back. “Besides, I’m telling you now.” 

Tony still didn’t look happy. “You lied by omission. And you lied to _us_.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said quietly. And he was. It was something that had to be done, but he regretted the pain it caused the team. And he hadn’t realized he wouldn’t see Steve Rogers again for so long. Phil hoped this time around they might have a chance to be friends. 

“ _Sorry_ ,” Tony repeated. “Well, that makes it all better.”

Phil looked to Steve. Steve didn’t look unhappy. He had his game face on, his stolid, soldierly expression. In some weird way Phil preferred Tony’s reaction. Tony wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t care. 

“Stark, calm down,” Steve ordered. His voice carried such command that even Tony Stark obeyed, though he probably wasn’t even aware of it. 

“Yeah, well . . . it was a unique circumstance, so I’ll give you a pass _this time_ ,” Tony informed Phil. “Next time you die, you’re _dead_. I mean, like, because I’ll kill you. If you’re not really dead. Am I making sense here?”

Phil smiled a little and nodded. “I missed you, too.” And to his surprise he realized he really had; as brash and self-centered as Tony could be, he had a big heart and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend.

“Okay, then.” Tony offered a hand even while he pretended to be put-upon. Phil shook it and felt the tension ease away. They were friends again, or as much as they’d ever been, anyway. “Nice ride.” Tony nodded to the car. “What is that, a sixty-three?”

“Sixty-two,” Phil said. “Before they got rid of the side sculpting.” He looked over at Cap, who didn’t seem interested in shaking his hand. Or in Lola, for that matter. Phil couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

“Oh, yeah. She’s a beauty,” Tony murmured. “You mind if I . . .?” He reached out like he was going to touch her—like he was going to open her damn door. 

“I mind,” Coulson said. 

Tony withdrew his hand, but he puffed out his chest. “What? If I scratch the paint, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“There’s only one Lola. Don’t touch her.”

Hands on his hips, Tony drew himself up. “Or what?”

“Or _I’ll tase you_ , Stark.” Phil tried not to sound annoyed. He was usually very good at not sounding annoyed. In fact, the more annoyed he was, the more level his voice was. He’d become proficient at that over the years. But he couldn’t help it; he had a soft spot for Lola. “I’m not joking. Don’t. Touch. The car.”

“I can’t touch it? You don’t want me touching it? Here’s me touching it, _Phil_. Here’s me putting my big fat finger right on your—”

There was an electric buzz and Tony slumped to the ground, body shuddering. 

“I did warn you not to do that. And it’s Agent,” Phil informed him. 

Finally, Steve cracked a smile. Phil looked at him with raised eyebrows and Steve shrugged. “I just . . . I guess I was worried about the lasting effects of your injury,” the man explained. “I’m glad to see you’re as quick on your feet as ever.”

Forget quick on his feet; the praise left Phil feeling light on his feet—giddy with relief. Steve wasn’t angry Phil had deceived him. And he wasn’t cold and distant. Grinning, Phil offered to shake Steve’s hand, but the man pulled him into a brief, but very affectionate embrace. “Good to have you back,” he huffed in Phil’s ear.

Phil felt warm all over. 

“I think I may have peed myself,” Tony groaned. “Someone help me up.” 

Steve helped him up. Tony glared at Coulson. 

“Sorry about that. I’m a bit possessive.” Phil looked at the car fondly. “She was a sort of ‘welcome back to life’ present from Nick.” He leaned back against her again. She felt so solid and sleek at his back, ready for action. “Do you know I was technically dead for nearly three minutes?” he mused. “After all I went through to get her . . .” He shrugged. “The idea of someone—of something—happening—to her . . . whew, I don’t know. Just kind of makes my palms sweat.” Phil grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just get edgy.”

Tony had a weird expression on his face. “No problem,” he said. “I get it.”

“Thanks.” All he needed was clever Tony Stark getting his hands on Lola’s specs and realizing all the modifications that had been made. Phil breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Maybe you could take me up for a flight sometime, though,” Tony added with a smug grin. 

Phil deflated. “Too smart for your own good,” he mumbled. 

“That’s a _flying car?_ ” Steve said. “Wow! That’s . . . wow. That’s really something!” Steve leaned over, inspecting the paint. “You sure can’t tell just by looking,” he added in amazement. 

“ _I_ could.” Tony sniffed. 

“It’s just . . . a little something S.H.I.E.L.D.’s been working on,” Phil said modestly. He’d have liked to keep it under wraps, but there was something gratifying about Steve’s admiration. 

“Absolutely fantastic,” Steve muttered. He drew a hand over what Phil jokingly thought of as Lola’s ‘flank.’ 

Phil convulsed. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Steve backed away, hands up. “I’m really sorry. I just got carried away.”

“That’s okay,” Phil blurted. “Just, uh . . . don’t do that again.” His face was hot, his prized composure having evaporated in an instant.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Tony yelped. “I didn’t even actually _touch_ her, and you tased me! Steve runs his big, sweaty paws all over her and _that’s okay?_ ” 

“I need to go,” Phil said. “I have . . . things to do. Anyway. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Steve has the specs for the next mission. I’ll meet up with you in D.C. I’m going to—I’m going to go wash my car.” He tried to pretend he didn’t notice that the keys jingled a bit more than usual; he was definitely flustered. With some willpower, he got the door open and got in.

“Pfft. Such a prima donna,” Tony grumbled. “Everyone knows a few dents only add character.”

“We’ll see you there,” Steve said, ignoring this. “And Phil . . . Agent Coulson. I really am sorry. Won’t happen again. You’re sure you’re not angry?”

“It’s fine,” Phil grunted. He managed a salute and peeled off, relieved when he’d left the superheroes far behind. He hoped Steve _did_ think he was angry. That would be a whole lot better than Steve realizing how incredibly aroused he was. 

Steve Rogers, his strong, sure hand caressing the swell of Lola’s rear wheel well . . . 

_Oh, damn._ What the hell was that about? He hated when people touched Lola. Girls, guys, didn’t matter. He was as protective as a mother bear with her cub. He didn’t get _turned on_ when people touched her. Of course, Steve was . . . well, _Steve,_ and he _did_ frequently turn Coulson on.

Coulson gunned it, racing down the darkening highway. 

If only he could outrun his insane libido.

oOoOoOo

Death Valley was a good place for a battle. At least—it was a fairly uninhabited place for a battle. Tony had lured the enemy—an odd-looking alien with glowing swords who proclaimed himself to be ‘Red Shift’—as far from human settlements as possible. It was a good move on Stark’s part, Phil thought, because those swords had some very catastrophic properties, like the ability to tear through space or create black holes.

Red Shift raised his sword and pointed it at Tony. Thor heaved Mjölnir at him. The mighty hammer missed Red Shift, striking the underside of the quinjet. Phil heard Clint curse. “Would you fucking _watch it,_ Thor? Now our landing gear’s hosed!” 

Phil was glad that it hadn’t been Lola, but now four people were in danger—he could see Natasha’s grim face through the window of the quinjet, Clint was driving and Steve and Bruce were aboard as well. Well, he doubted he had to worry about Bruce, at any rate.

“Yeah, I’m not in great shape myself,” Tony put in. He and Thor had managed to disarm the villain of one of his incredibly powerful swords, but at a price; Tony’s suit was obviously not functioning at 100% and it was clear he was having difficulty staying in the air, let alone avoiding further injury. “Come on, guys; someone give me some help, here,” Tony ordered. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be the Tony Stark Show anymore. I thought we were The Amazing Avengers Variety Hour or something.” He narrowly avoided being cut in half by a sweeping thrust. “Come on, Steve, get in here and entertain the troops again. Show us some high kicks,” Tony pleaded. “Someone?”

Phil obligingly steered Lola a little closer to the enemy. Since Tony had Red Shift’s full attention, Phil had plenty of time to pick from Lola’s array of weapons. He chose the small red button beside his speedometer; he called that particular missile ‘The Kiss of Death.’ 

He pressed the button and the missile launched, trailing a thin, black line of smoke as it hurtled toward the enemy. But with an almost desultory flick of his remaining sword, Red Shift sent the projectile into another universe. 

He turned to look at Phil. “You’ve drawn my attention, human. What was the next part of your plan?”

“Two missiles?” Phil suggested weakly. He had a feeling none of Lola’s weaponry could match a sword that could rip the universe a new one, but that never stopped him before. 

Red Shift merely laughed. Something fell from the underside of the quinjet and slammed him to the ground. The insanely dangerous sword was knocked from his hand and there he was, pinned by Thor’s hammer. Captain America somersaulted away and leapt to his feet. 

Phil landed beside him and got out, covering the enemy with his (admittedly useless) sidearm. “Everything okay?” 

“Peachy,” Steve replied dryly. 

Thor strode over and stood above Red Shift. “You have only won a temporary reprieve,” Red Shift spat. “Galactus comes, and his appetite is limitless.”

Thor ignored him with a disdain only a demigod could conjure. “You wield Mjölnir well, Captain.”

Steve grinned and saluted. “Might have mucked up the landing gear, but it was a welcome addition all the same,” he said. “I found it lodged in the retractable ladder bay.”

Phil tried not to stare. Steve had managed to use Thor’s hammer? Was there anything the man _couldn’t_ do?

Red Shift thrashed, but it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Tony dropped down beside him and examined the sword in the sand. “You know, this baby is pretty—”

“ _No_ ,” Phil and Steve said as one. Whatever trouble Tony Stark got himself into, Phil was sure it would be a million times worse with technology capable of opening rifts in the universe. 

Thor bent and picked it up. “I will take both swords—as well as this villain, this ‘ _herald_ ,’ if he calls himself thus, and return to my father. He will know what to do,” he said confidently. 

“I think S.H.I.E.L.D. would prefer to examine—”

“Agent Coulson.” Steve set a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “I think this power is better off beyond the hands of man.” Well, there was no arguing with that, really. 

“I’d like to debrief him first,” Phil said, knowing this was useless. 

“We’ll let Thor go and we can start the debriefing with me,” Steve suggested. 

Phil did like the idea of debriefing Captain America. He allowed Thor to call on Odin’s power to return them to Asgard, though he wasn’t sure what Fury would say. 

“It was the right call,” Steve muttered, as if reading his mind. 

“We’re going to have to put this baby down in a semi-controlled landing,” Clint’s voice informed them. The quinjet hovered overhead. “We’ll head back to base for that. See you there.”

“Yeah, uh, speaking of heading back; Steve, I’d give you a lift, but I think I’m gonna need a screwdriver and possibly some paperclips before I know this suit’s safe for passengers,” Tony told them. He struggled to get in the air. 

“Are you sure _you’ll_ be okay?” Steve asked. 

“Me? Pfff. Man, I’ve fallen from _way_ higher than this before.”

“And probably landed on his head once or twice, too. It would explain a lot,” Phil joked dryly. 

Tony ignored him. “Jarvis says I’ve got enough energy to make it home. I think I’m good. At least I have air conditioning.” 

“Okay. Take care,” Steve said. Tony took off, jerking sporadically. They watched him until he’d disappeared over the horizon. He was flying like a drunken bumblebee, but he seemed confident enough.

Coulson and Steve looked at one another. They were smack in the middle of Death Valley, and Coulson could feel his neck was already beginning to sunburn. It was just the two of them. Well, three of them, really, if you counted Lola. “I could call you a cab,” Phil offered. 

“Really?” Steve said. He looked amused. “That’s how it’s going to be?”

Phil let out a long breath. “Get in, soldier.” Phil climbed in and watched as Steve slipped in beside him and buckled himself in. He worked off the helmet and dragged a hand through his hair. God, he looked so good, so right. And he was _so close._ The scent of Lola’s leather combining with Steve’s cologne was stirring something in Phil’s blood. If he wanted to, he could run his hand right up the inside of Steve’s thigh. _Jesus_. “This is . . . awkward.” 

“Why?” Steve was completely oblivious. 

“Just—just try not to touch anything . . . more than you have to.” Phil peeled out a little faster than necessary, eager to get this over with before he blurted something foolish.

“Lighten up,” Steve told him. “You know I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.” Phil had to smile. “Look at this leather.” Steve stroked a hand over his seat. “Gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed somewhat breathlessly. 

“And the dash! The workmanship is truly impressive. Makes me proud to be an American.”

Phil grinned crookedly, not trusting himself to speak. When it came to pure, pornographic Patriotism, Steve inspired weird things in him. 

“She’s a beauty, a real beauty.” Steve reached out and fondled the gearshift, his strong hand tracing the contours, gripping it, rubbing it.

Phil stiffened. “Gnngh.” He nearly came, right then and there, just like a horny school kid. 

“You all right?”

“Please don’t touch the gearshift while I’m driving,” he said in a rush. 

“Sure, sure. Sorry.”

Phil shifted in his seat, trying to loosen the tightness in his shoulders and neck. “Not a problem,” he rasped. 

Steve was smiling at him. “This is a lot more dignified than Tony carrying me around like a sack of potatoes,” he said. “A guy could get used to this. This is nice.”

Phil laughed. “Driving Captain America around is nice,” he responded. “A guy could get used to that.”

The look Steve was giving him was . . . worrying. Entirely too knowing for Phil’s taste. 

Phil squirmed in his seat. He could feel the heat from Steve’s leg beside his own. And Steve kept _touching_ things; Phil watched as the man reached up and ran a fingertip along the underside of the rearview mirror. 

“I wouldn’t have figured you to drive something like this,” Steve admitted. 

“Yeah. Well. I have an appreciation for the classics,” Phil said dryly. This was loosely true, if by ‘appreciation’ you meant ‘erection.’ Phil was going to have dreams about Steve rubbing his gearshift. 

Steve laughed softly. Phil hoped to Christ the guy was as naïve as he seemed and hadn’t noticed anything amiss. “Yeah. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“And she’s in great shape in spite of her age,” Phil couldn’t help adding slyly. 

“As are you,” Steve returned quickly, his smile teasing. Less sly, that. 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m fond of vintage models myself,” Steve added, laugh lines around his eyes. 

Okay, Phil couldn’t even pretend the man didn’t realize what he was doing. “All right, that’s enough of that,” he said in a mild voice. He really shouldn’t encourage the man, even if he wanted to. 

“You sure?” 

Jesus. Captain America was _not_ flirting with him. Should not be. _Could_ not be. Phil blew out a long breath. He’d heard that a gorgeous vintage car was a good way to pick up women, but even Lola shouldn’t have been this good. _Was_ he sure he wanted Steve to stop? “Not entirely sure,” he admitted. 

“Do they still have drive-ins?” Steve asked, his blue eyes radiating innocence. 

Phil swallowed. “Yeah. A few. Why, you’re proposing to take Lola to a drive-in? She’s a bit too classy for that.”

“You don’t think it sounds like fun? You, me, Lola, maybe a couple of hot dogs and soda pops . . .”

“No food or drinks in my car,” Phil answered on autopilot. He was glad both his mouth and his car had a good autopilot, because the alternative was saying something goofy and/or driving them straight into a ditch in his surprise. 

Steve laughed. “Well, I’d like to do it. Just think of it as a possibility if you ever change your mind.”

What was the guy saying? He wanted to go necking with Coulson or something? This really couldn’t be happening. All the same, it wasn’t like he wasn’t interested. 

“Sure,” Phil said. “Sure. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” 

Steve smiled and rolled down his window, letting the warm wind blow through his hair. 

Phil just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

oOoOoOo

Phil rushed back to their Ohio headquarters. He’d had to borrow a car, but at least the mission had been completed. And it had been a tough one. He’d even considered calling in Steve or Tony or even Bruce, but it turned out they didn’t have time. And anyway, his team had handled it themselves. He was proud of them. He should be proud of them. _One little scratch . . ._ he thought. _If she got one little scratch on my car I am going to go nuclear. She should have left well enough alone._ There was a landing pad on roof, along with a little garage for maintenance and upkeep. He hoped to God she’d be there. By the time he reached the last flight of stairs he was running, his blood pressure through the roof. When he caught sight of Skye he stopped, skidding a little, and stared.

“I was really careful with her.” 

“Hnf.”

“No, really. Not a scratch on her. Or me, not that you care. But really, the car is fine. Just a lot of mud.” Skye looked at the car. “Well, there _might_ be a scratch or two under the mud . . .” 

Coulson maintained his deadpan expression. He was very proud of this. Unfortunately, when he opened his mouth, what came out was a whimper, which sort of undermined his otherwise extremely professional demeanor. 

“Hey, we _outran a dozen robots the size of skyscrapers, okay?_ I think I did really damn good, all things considered. And look at it this way; if I hadn’t hotwired Lola and made off with her, Optimus Prime would be scraping her off the bottom of his shoe right now.”

Phil gave a delicate shudder. 

Steve appeared out of nowhere, all suited up, and patted Skye on the shoulder. “You did good,” he said. 

Her eyes bugged. “You’re—”

“Yes.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yes. I got your transmission. Looks like you handled things before I could reach the scene, though.”

“Oh! Apparently you’re ‘Red, White and Booty’ on Lola’s speed-dial. I only hit that one because I was curious.” Skye smiled. 

Ordinarily, Phil would have been deeply embarrassed about that. Right now he was floating on a haze of horror, so this news barely registered. _Someone had touched his car. Someone had **driven** his car. And she was covered in filth and probably dented all to hell. He couldn’t even begin to assess the damage with all the dirt. _ He thought he might be sick.

“Anyway, I’m sure Agent Coulson is very grateful for your hard work. Why don’t you get patched up and take the rest of the day off. Have a warm bath,” Steve suggested. “I’ll handle things here.” 

Skye looked at Coulson. Phil couldn’t talk. The room was sort of swirling around him. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Steve replied in a firm voice. 

Skye looked doubtful, but left anyway. “Okay. Take care . . . give me a call if you need anything.”

Steve put an arm around Phil and gently led him over to a chair. “You’re okay,” the man said softly. “She’s okay. Everything’s good. You just have a seat and I’ll . . . do you want a blanket or something?”

Phil shook his head dumbly. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. 

“You sure? Um . . . I think you might be in shock.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m fine. I just . . . I just need a minute,” Phil croaked. 

Steve looked at him with concern. Phil made a concentrated effort to pull himself together. He willed himself to stop shaking. He took several deep breaths. He felt calmer already. 

“It’ll be okay, soldier,” Steve told him gently. “I’ve got this.” He left the room and came back carrying a bucket and some other stuff. Phil didn’t really pay close attention. Everything was still a little fuzzy around the edges, and anyway, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mud plastering his beloved car. And was that a tiny crack in the windshield? He rocked back and forth a little, biting his lip. 

Steve was humming some mindless little tune as he worked. He dragged out a hose and squeezed some kind of soap into the bucket. Then, very carefully, almost lovingly, he took a soft sponge, wetted it, and began clearing the filth from Lola’s body. _Steve was washing his car._

Phil blinked. “Oh, my God,” he moaned. Did Steve have _any idea?_

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “I’m not hurting her. It’s okay.” 

Phil watched wordlessly as Steve worked her over, hosing her down. The mud slid off her sleek sides, splattering on the floor of the garage. Phil didn’t see any dents or scratches. He began to feel calmer. 

Then Steve’s soapy hand worked over Lola’s grill, and Phil had to bite back another moan. Steve Rogers, all muscled and handsome, washing Phil’s car. This was a sexual fantasy Phil Coulson didn’t even know he _had_. 

“You’ll get your suit wet,” Phil croaked. 

“So? Won’t hurt it.” Steve purposely hit himself square in the chest with a spritz of water. “See? I’m not melting or anything.” He offered Phil a smile, and Phil managed a weak laugh in return. Good God, he thought he’d made that outfit as sexual as it could get, but there was nothing like a little water to get it all plastered to Steve’s body just so. 

Phil stared at Steve’s strapping chest, wondering what it would look like, naked, with water cascading down it. He blinked a little. Probably better not to imagine it. He was getting lightheaded all over again. 

“You look a bit red. You want to go lie down or something? I promise I’ll take good care of her.”

“No. I’m fine. Thank you.” _And give up watching the show? Not on your life,_ Phil thought. At this point, he’d have paid good money just to be able to keep watching Captain America soap up his car. Talk about a wet-dream. 

“You sure?”

“Better by the minute.” Watching Steve bend over to scrub a wheel was doing wonders for getting his blood pressure back up. He was actually feeling pretty good. Better than he’d like to be feeling in public, in fact, but it was still an improvement. 

“Suit yourself.” Steve made his way around the car, scrubbing and rinsing. Phil couldn’t help notice that the man managed to get himself almost as soapy and wet as Lola. “Looking pretty good, right?” Steve asked innocently, squatting so he could drag the sponge over the rocker panel. Incidentally, Phil was getting quite a view of how the man’s inner thigh looked, rock-hard with tension, dripping wet. 

Phil made a strangled noise and crossed his legs at the ankle. 

“Lola’s a lot better, but now I’m a mess.” Steve hosed himself down nonchalantly, suds coursing down his hard body. Phil hoped to God the security cameras were getting all of this, because he had a feeling he’d be watching this footage repeatedly in the future. Jesus, the way the soapy blue material molded to that incredible ass!

Phil discreetly tried to fan his face with one hand. He had to stop thinking about it. He stared, picturing Steve bent over Lola’s hood, hands splayed, biting his lip as Phil—

“I should probably toss this thing in the wash,” Steve remarked. Then, to Phil’s dismay and utter delight, he began to unbuckle the suit. He peeled the top off and tossed it aside. “I’m sure you can find me a spare outfit, right?”

“Uh.” 

Steve leaned low over Lola’s hood, propping himself on one elbow. He lifted the hose above them both and let the water stream over them. He shut his eyes, opened his mouth a little, and looked entirely too much like cheap porn.

Phil stared, speechless, his mouth hanging open. 

Finally Steve lowered the hose. The look he gave Phil suggested that he expected Phil to have _done_ something by now, but there was a short in Phil’s brain. Hell, there was probably a short in _Steve’s_ brain, the way he was acting. 

Steve gestured for him to come closer. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to make a closer inspection?” And he winked. He actually _winked_. 

It was too much. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Phil blurted. 

Steve grinned widely. “I might have some idea.”

“Are you—were you—was this—you actually _were_ flirting with me?” Phil said incredulously. 

Steve leaned back against Lola’s hood, propping himself up on his elbows, now bare-chested, droplets of water clinging to his beautiful pectorals. “You’re quick on the uptake today,” he teased. “I _am_ flirting with you, Agent Coulson. In point of fact, I’m trying to seduce you.”

“Jesus.” 

“I’m touching your car. You sure you’re not going to come over here and ‘punish’ me?”

“ _Jesus._ ” Phil couldn’t help adding, “Uh, I’d rather your belt not scratch the paint.”

Steve sighed. “Look, either you’re doing something wrong or I am.” He suddenly looked shy. “Um. I haven’t exactly had a lot of experience with this. If you don’t want to, I’d appreciate—”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to,” Phil said quickly, noting the way Steve was starting to tense up and get embarrassed. 

“You’re not?”

“I’m just saying lose the belt.”

Steve perked up. “Done.” He carefully undid the belt and tossed it aside. “Your turn,” he said encouragingly. 

Phil did not need to be told twice. He was on his feet in a moment, quickly unbuckling his belt and dropping it to the floor. Either he was going to sleep with Steve Rogers or he’d been crushed under a giant robot and was now in heaven, and in any case, he wasn’t going to argue. Standing there gazing at this American God, Phil could feel his cock begin to throb. 

He and Steve stared at each other. 

“I like how sharp you look in your suits,” Steve said in a husky voice. 

Phil stepped closer. “Yeah?” 

Steve smiled. It was such an unexpected, dreamy smile that Phil had to blink. “Yeah,” Steve said. He motioned for Phil to come closer, and Phil did. Steve reached out and grabbed hold of the flap of Phil’s jacket, tugging him closer. Phil shuffled forward on numb feet, still trying to process how he’d got here from killer mecha monsters from space. Every time he thought life couldn’t surprise him, it managed to up the ante. Then Steve tilted his head up, his bright blue eyes all earnest hope. 

Phil bent and kissed him, softly, respectfully, because dammit, this was Steve, and whatever else happened, this was the first kiss, and it should be right. 

They pulled away and grinned stupidly at each other for just a moment. 

Then Steve surged upward, kissing Phil hard, one strong hand curled around the back of Phil’s neck, and yes, if the first kiss had to be innocent, Phil was just as happy that the second one was all hot breath and Steve’s slick tongue and breath-takingly deep and desperate. 

Steve pulled away just long enough to huff, “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for a long time,” before kissing Phil dizzy again. 

Steve had wanted this? _Steve_ had wanted this? Phil’s mind reeled. 

And Steve’s hands wandered. Apparently he _had_ wanted this—had longed to touch Phil so much he hardly seemed to know where to start, though tugging his shirt loose from his trousers and undoing Phil’s fly was a good start. Then Steve slipped a hand _inside_ Phil’s pants, and Phil gapsed. 

Steve pulled back to scan his face. “All right?” he panted. 

Phil dragged him right back into the kiss, rolling his tongue around Steve’s. Steve moaned softly and began to stroke him. Phil dragged both hands over Steve’s incredible torso. He had wanted this too, had dreamed of this all his goddamned life, and he knew _exactly_ were he wanted to touch Steve—every fucking where. He caressed the swell of Steve’s shoulder, slid a hand through Steve’s hair, enjoying the way Steve shivered a little at that. He ran a reverential hand over a pectoral, skimming his thumb over the nub of Steve’s nipple. 

Steve groaned and Phil pulled away. Steve’s face was flushed, but his brow was set in that usual determined way. Steve kissed him again, softly. “I want more,” he murmured against Phil’s lips. 

“So do I,” Phil agreed breathlessly. “You want to . . . can I . . . ?” he asked, nodding to Steve’s crotch. 

Steve nodded so hard that Phil nearly laughed, having to bite his lip. He had to remind himself that, in some ways, Steve was still an eager new recruit. It was refreshing to be able to turn the tables and make him blush, though. So thinking, Phil pushed Steve’s hand away and sank to his knees. 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Good?” Phil asked nonchalantly as he undid the suit. He was one of only a handful of people who knew how. He gave in to his intense desire to slide his hand up the inside of Steve’s thigh, relishing the groan Steve gave and how instantly hard it made him.

Steve swallowed. “Good isn’t the word I’d use,” he said hoarsely. 

Phil began peeling the suit down, and Steve helpfully lifted his hips before falling back against the hood. “Isn’t it?” Phil murmured, pressing his lips to Steve’s naked thigh. 

Steve gasped. He squirmed beneath Phil as Phil nuzzled the surprisingly tender flesh. How could something so strong and hard feel so soft? 

“What word _would_ you use?” Phil asked. He drew his tongue over Steve’s skin, tasting the water leftover from the impromptu carwash. 

“Great, maybe,” Steve panted. “Or something— _better._ ” The word drew out in an agony of pleasure as Phil took Steve into his mouth and began sucking. Phil pressed his palms to the hood, still warm from Lola’s earlier flight, and began bobbing his head, enjoying the way Steve’s prick filled his mouth. 

Steve’s hips jerked, pumping just slightly of their own volition. “Oh, God,” Steve muttered, fingers carding through Phil’s hair. Phil reached up and pressed his palm to the inner part of Steve’s knee, encouraging him to shift just a little, to give Phil room. “Wait a second,” Steve begged. Phil pulled off and Steve repositioned himself a little, drawing his knees up so that he was flat on his back, legs splayed, feet planted against the red hood. 

Phil stared. He had never imagined this erotic in his life. 

Steve gave him a crooked grin. “Okay?”

Phil held up a finger. “Yeah. Uh. Just . . . give me a second.” He hurried to the bucket and grabbed up the still-sudsy sponge. “I just have to,” he explained. He squeezed it over Steve, watching the soapy water cascade down his chiseled abdomen and dribble down his thighs. 

Steve laughed. “Really?” 

Phil grinned and bent over Steve, pressing the sponge against Steve’s rigid cock. Steve’s expression turned from cocky grin to open-mouthed bliss. “Really,” Phil purred. He used the sponge to fondle Steve for several moments, enjoying the ever-more-desperate noises he was able to draw from his long-time hero. He spread that soapy foam all over Steve’s stomach, chest, and thighs. 

Steve’s head had fallen back, little helpless moans escaping his perfect lips. Phil stopped, unbuttoning his own trousers and letting them fall to the floor. He clambered up atop the car between Steve’s legs, bending to kiss the man. Steve promptly wrapped his arms around Phil, pulling him down against Steve’s body. 

Mouth still locked on Steve’s, his tongue deep in Steve’s mouth, Phil began to rut, pressing his own prick against Steve’s slippery, soapy body. 

Steve broke the kiss to cry out softly. “Oh, _wow._ ” He angled his body differently so that their stiff cocks sought each other out, sliding against one another. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Phil moaned. He planted his hands against Steve’s chest—Steve’s gorgeous chest, suds still clinging worshipfully to his skin—to give himself a little leverage. Both of Steve’s hands were on Phil’s ass, encouraging him to move. He rocked against Steve, both of them moaning in harmony. 

Finally, Steve reached up with one hand and clutched Phil’s tie. He pulled him down, open-mouthed, tongue questing, and Phil kissed him, their mouths as wet and slippery as Steve’s wonderful body until—

Steve stilled and shuddered. Phil drew back to enjoy Steve’s expression—brows drawn tight, mouth open just slightly, eyes clamped shut. Phil reached down and curled a hand around Steve’s prick, loving how it spasmed, milking Steve through his orgasm until the man had collapsed back on the hood. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Phil marveled, unable to take his eyes away from Steve’s after-glowy face, his half-shut eyes, content as a cat who got the cream. 

Steve smiled smugly. “My turn,” he growled. He sat up, pushing Phil back. 

“You don’t have to,” Phil protested half-heartedly as he got off the car. 

“I wanna,” Steve said with straightforward truculence. He sank to his knees before Phil, who probably could have climaxed just from the sight. “I, uh, haven’t done this before, so . . .” Steve informed him sheepishly. 

Phil shrugged. At this point, it wasn’t going to take skill. It wasn’t going to take much at _all_. “Just watch the teeth,” he advised. 

Steve nodded. He licked Phil experimentally once or twice, then apparently it wasn’t too soapy or otherwise objectionable, sucked the head of his prick into his mouth. 

God, his beautiful mouth. 

Phil drew in a long, ragged breath as Steve’s head dipped. He reached down to touch Steve’s jaw, to cup his chin. Steve looked up questioningly, his blue eyes so totally disarming that Phil groaned. How could anyone who looked that angelic be so incredibly sensual? Seeing that Phil wasn’t objecting, just enjoying the sight, Steve began sucking again, keeping his eyes locked on Phil’s. 

It was very quickly too much, too good, and too overwhelming, and Phil rested a trembling hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve obediently drew back, still kissing up and down the shaft of Phil’s penis. 

“God . . . _Steve_ ,” Phil grunted as he came. He expected the man to back off, but he just kept his eyes closed, long lashes lowered almost coquettishly as he continued to nuzzle Phil’s pulsing cock. Phil couldn’t help but press against those plump lips again, watching his come dribble down Steve’s chin. 

When he finished orgasming, Phil realized one of his hands was clamped tightly around Steve’s neck, holding him in place. “Oh. I’m sorry,” Phil panted. 

Steve wiped his mouth. “’S okay,” he mumbled. He stood up and looked sheepishly at Phil. “Was it all right?”

Phil absolutely boggled. The man had the audacity to stand there, Phil’s come still trickling from his absolutely succulent lower lip, and ask Phil if he’d done it right? “If it wasn’t all right I think you’d be, er, somewhat cleaner than the car right now,” Phil said dryly. 

Steve laughed. 

“It was . . . really . . . wow,” Phil added. “Thank you.”

Steve blushed. “Oh. Uh. You’re welcome.”

Phil grabbed his trousers. “I’m sorry I . . . uh,” he said, gesturing towards his face. 

Steve shrugged, obviously trying to look very man-of-the-world about it all. He picked up the sponge. “Hey, at least we were prepared,” he joked, cleaning himself off. 

“Yeah, um, about that . . .” Phil watched Steve run the soapy sponge all over his body. “I hope you’ve learned that doing that is just a quick way to get dirty all over again,” he said hoarsely. 

Steve grinned. “I was counting on it,” he said. 

“You seduced me with a sexy carwash,” Phil marveled. “I didn’t think you were that, er . . . _sophisticated_ ,” he admitted. 

Steve went and sat on Lola’s hood, looking very confident that Phil wouldn’t be upset about this. At least he wasn’t wearing a belt. “No, but I’ve always been known as a clever strategist,” he returned. He winked at Phil. “You have to admit, Lola and I make a good team.”

Phil couldn’t deny this. “I never even dreamt of anything that erotic. Where did you come up with that?”

Steve shrugged. “I could tell you were getting, uh, a little excited whenever I touched your car,” he explained. “It was really funny, and kind of, I dunno . . . kind of sweet.” He smiled at Phil. “So I figured maybe I’d go for broke . . . a little ménage a trios kind of thing. Believe it or not, I came up with it after bringing up the drive in. I guess Lola sort of inspired the idea in me,” he added, patting her hood. He looked at Phil, eyes twinkling. “By the way, I still think she’d like a chance to go to that drive-in. If you’re up for it,” he added rather shyly, all things considered. 

Phil went over and kissed Steve softly. Well, why not? Phil could still retain the rule about food and drink, regardless of the substances spilled on his beloved car today. And besides . . . he could always make Steve clean her off again afterward. It sounded like a fair trade. “All right,” he agreed with a grin. “After all . . .whatever Lola wants, Lola gets!”


End file.
